The vast arena of the Central Continent trembled as dawn broke over the horizon. The air shimmered with spiritual pressure so heavy it bent the clouds above. Every genius from the Five Continents stood in silence — thousands of cultivators gathered beneath the heavens, waiting.
Then, the sky split open.
Seven golden thrones descended from the rift, each carrying a figure draped in divine aura. Their presence made even the air tremble. The Higher Realm envoys had arrived.
The lead envoy, a white-robed man whose eyes reflected entire constellations, spoke with a voice that shook the Dao itself.
"The Second Trial shall now begin — the Trial of True Self. Those who cannot conquer their hearts are not qualified to touch the heavens."
No one dared breathe. Even the proudest geniuses bowed their heads under that gaze.
Golden sigils flared beneath their feet. One by one, every participant was enveloped in columns of divine light. Screams, gasps, and prayers echoed across the field as consciousnesses were dragged from their bodies into the deepest parts of their souls.
When Lin Feng opened his eyes again, the world was gone.
---
He stood alone in an endless crimson wasteland. The sky bled like liquid fire; rivers of blood reflected shattered fragments of his past. Countless corpses lay scattered — enemies he had slain, allies he had lost, and faces he thought he had forgotten.
A cold wind whispered through the silence.
"So this… is my heart."
The air distorted. From the far end of the blood-soaked plain, a silhouette emerged — tall, calm, carrying the same Azure Sword in hand. As it approached, Lin Feng's pupils shrank.
It was him.
No — not him. The figure's eyes were pools of pure killing intent, his aura oppressive enough to make the earth crack beneath his feet.
"Who are you?" Lin Feng demanded.
The reflection smiled, his voice dripping with disdain.
"I am you — the part that never hesitated to kill, the side that revels in power. The side you've tried so hard to bury beneath your ideals."
The shadow's blade rose, gleaming with bloody light.
"Tell me, Lin Feng — when you slaughtered the bandits, when you crushed your enemies, when you made others kneel… was it justice you sought, or satisfaction?"
Lin Feng's hand trembled slightly on his sword. The words pierced deeper than any blade.
He had always fought for strength — to protect, to survive — but beneath it all… was there not a thrill in proving he was above those who doubted him?
The reflection stepped closer, the aura of Slaughter Intent swirling like a storm.
"You call yourself righteous, but your heart craves domination. You enjoy watching your enemies kneel. You enjoy it."
"Shut up!" Lin Feng roared, drawing his sword. Azure light burst forth, illuminating the dead plain.
The two collided.
Steel clashed with steel. Azure light against crimson flame. Each blow cracked the sky, each step shook the land. The shadow fought with the same style, the same strength — every sword technique Lin Feng had ever learned mirrored perfectly.
"Azure Sword Art — Fifth Stance!"
"Azure Sword Art — Fifth Stance!"
Their blades collided, shattering space around them. Energy waves blasted through the illusion, turning the corpses into ash.
But Lin Feng was the one forced back. Blood trickled from his lips.
"You can't win," the reflection said calmly. "You're hesitating. You fear what you might become."
Lin Feng gasped for air, gripping his sword tighter. The reflection's words echoed in his mind — every regret, every act of vengeance replayed before his eyes.
He saw the countless lives he had taken… the fear in his enemies' eyes… and the quiet satisfaction that had followed.
"Maybe you're right," he whispered. "Maybe I did enjoy it. Maybe there's blood on my hands that will never wash away."
The reflection grinned — victorious.
"Then fall into me. Let go of your weakness. Together, we could be invincible."
"No…" Lin Feng raised his sword again, eyes blazing with a calm fury. "You're not my weakness — you're my strength twisted by rage."
He stepped forward, his aura changing. The Dragon within him stirred — a deep, ancient roar echoing through his soul. The air filled with the power of four intents — Sword, Battle, Slaughter, and Dragon, intertwining like a celestial storm.
> "I am Lin Feng," he declared. "I don't deny the blood I've spilled. But it will never rule me. My sword will kill when it must — not because it hungers, but because it must protect."
The reflection's smile faltered. "You think you can suppress me? You are me!"
"No. I am us."
Lin Feng's eyes turned sharp as lightning. His sword hummed, the mark of destiny glowing upon its hilt. For the first time, he saw the faint pattern of the Seventh Stance — a movement so fluid and natural it transcended technique.
"Azure Sword Art — Seventh Stance… Heaven's Reflection!"
The world blazed with azure light.
The reflection lunged forward with a furious roar, but the moment their swords met, his body dissolved — scattered into motes of starlight that drifted toward Lin Feng, merging with him.
Pain, rage, pride — all of it flowed back into Lin Feng's heart, purified into clarity.
The wasteland faded. The corpses vanished. What remained was silence — and peace.
---
When Lin Feng opened his eyes again, he was kneeling in the real world. Sweat drenched his robe, but his aura had changed — deeper, steadier, terrifyingly calm. The envoys on the golden thrones stared down at him, their divine eyes gleaming with interest.
The white-robed envoy spoke quietly.
"Interesting… he faced his shadow and did not destroy it, but embraced it. Rare."
The declaration sent ripples through the stands as the trial ended. Geniuses across the continent woke screaming, crying, or broken — many had failed to conquer their hearts.
But Lin Feng stood tall. His aura pulsed like a blade that had found its true edge.
Li Yuexin, standing nearby, looked at him with awe and something softer — an emotion she didn't understand. "You did it again," she whispered. "You're always one step beyond everyone."
Lin Feng didn't reply. He simply looked up at the heavens, where the golden thrones shimmered. For a brief moment, he could swear one of the envoys — a woman with eyes like stars — smiled faintly at him.
Then the sky closed, the thrones vanished, and the Second Trial came to an end.
But deep within his soul, the faint whisper of the dragon spoke once more:
"You've accepted yourself… but soon, you will have to choose what kind of god you'll become."
Lin Feng's eyes narrowed.
"Then let the next trial come."
And with that, he walked forward — toward destiny.